


undine

by ashinan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Eldritch beings, Gen, MerMay, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pre-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18726019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashinan/pseuds/ashinan
Summary: The sea had many secrets, and Fjord did not plan to become one of them.





	undine

**Author's Note:**

> saw a bunch of amaaaazing mermaid art on twitter/tumblr for mermay and I just. wanted to play too. so I once against decided to do world building like a weirdo. takes place pre-season 2, before Fjord's ship goes down and Uk'otoa makes his deal. huuuuuge thanks to my darling [Kann](https://twitter.com/stillisee?lang=en) who let me yell about mermaids and coral and eldritch horrors. AND WHO ALSO [DREW. SOMETHING AMAZING?????](https://twitter.com/stillisee/status/1125208121494986753?s=19) anyway. here is my contribution to mermay

 

The sea held secrets all her own. Stories plagued the coastal cities as sure as the tide beat against weathered stone: whispers of siren’s that were pale, skeletal creatures, that tricked you with meat puppets full of rotting sailor, of whales whose maws churned the sea into devastating whirlpools, of Divers Grave housing a twisted descendant of the legendary mermaids. Never was Fjord afraid of the ocean. Never did he anger her untoward. The sea had many secrets, and Fjord did not plan to become one of them.

Port Damali disappeared into the curve of the horizon. The _Oceans Respite_ wasn’t the biggest merchant vessel Fjord had been on, but it certainly was sparsely manned. While Fjord was mostly here as extra muscle, he was also keeping an eye at the behest of Vandren; a vacation would’ve been nice, but Fjord was never as steady on land as he was at sea. Besides, a little bit of mystery kept the soul happy.

Being half-orc had its advantages when it came to work. Sure, he’d never truly leave Vandren’s crew, but most ships nowadays could use someone with a bit of Orcish blood to keep the rigging in hand and the balance of the ship just so. Helped that Fjord could talk himself into and out of most situations. Most folk onboard were good at keeping their opinions to themselves.

Fjord jogged down the steps toward the cargo hold, slipping inside with a nary a whisper. Most of the barrels and crates were merchant shit: spices and wool, uncut gems and wheat heavy sacks. The two items Vandren had requested Fjord keep an eye on were near the back of the hold, tucked careful amongst a sizeable crate carrying weaponry. Fjord cracked the lid open. Shoved the mess of hay and parchment out of the way until his fingers hit smooth jade.

All was well.

Each day was repetitive in its own way, a rigid structure that wove throughout Fjord’s daily life, and passed like the phases of the moon. The route was well known and well worn. Maps were brought out and stars were studied; the navigator and the Quartermaster spent hours with their heads bent close, ink smudged over their fingers and skin heavy with the sun. Fjord continued checking. Worked. Leaned over the railing at night and counted the stars in the waves until they all bled together.

Sometimes, when his body was exhausted but his thoughts were humming, he’d stare so long into the ripple of the ocean that it sometimes - stared back. Not truly, surely. Exhaustion made the head funny and Fjord had always been imaginative. But sometimes he was certain that during the quiet hours of the morning, when dawn chewed away the dead of night, or at night, when the twilight hollow of dusk chased away the light, there was something _Other_ beneath the waves. Something waiting. Watching. Studying Fjord from where the light didn’t quite touch and where Fjord couldn’t quite see.

Exhaustion and the sun. Dangerous bedfellows on a seafaring journey.

They hadn’t sighted land in weeks. The crew was restless, Fjord too, his thoughts never allowing for longer than three hours rest at a time. Nothing fishy had happened aside from the cook’s truly abysmal cooking and Fjord worried for a moment that Vandren had sent him out just to get rid of him. Shook off the thought as soon as it surfaced, struggling in his hammock a moment until his feet hit wood. Just another week and they’d all meet in Denshav.

The ship lurched, suddenly and without warning, and Fjord was thrown unceremoniously against the side. Those he’d been bunking with shouted in surprise; some fell hard to floor and others were tangled quick in their hammocks. Fjord staggered to his feet, dragging himself over to where the porthole was streaming the first pinks of dawn.

A shadow passed over the portcullis.

Fjord stumbled backwards, claws catching sharp against a wooden post. The darkness on the other side passed. The ship lurched once more, this time a devastating rush upwards before it was slammed back down. It wasn’t possible to keep his footing. Shouting began up and down the crew quarters, doors slamming open, confusion filtering into the hall. Fjord pushed to his feet and made his way to the door.

Outside was pandemonium. Cries of fear mixed with uncertain shouting for order; the Quartermaster screamed down the stairs for everyone to get to their stations. Fjord’s thoughts raced. Was this what Vandren had expected? Were they about to be boarded?

Grabbing a crew member as she raced by, Fjord asked, “What’s happening? Pirates?”

“They don’t know,” she said, shaken, stunned. “Go topside. We don’t know.”

Blinking, Fjord released her and she continued down below. Above, more shouting. The boat rocked. Fjord caught himself on the railing, yanking himself up and past the stream of crew desperate to find their stations. Shouting suddenly shifted to terrified screams as the boat groaned and began to sway dangerously to the left.

Bursting out onto the deck, it was mayhem. The quiet still of the morning was broken by a massive swell of bubbling water a mile to their right, a clear indication that something was surfacing. Something big. Something impossible. Fjord dodged his way around panicking crew, catching himself on the mast right as the entire ship rocked back into place.

“Get to your stations!” the Quartermaster was howling, fear stark on their face, fingers gripping the wheel. The Captain was nowhere to be seen; most of the crew up top were yanking and tugging on rigging, desperate to get the sails unfurled, to catch the wind away from whatever had decided to breech. Fjord grabbed whatever he could, ropes and barrels and loose bags, tossing them aside to get to the ladder.

Shouts rose fast and loud and Fjord whirled just as the first wave crashed into the ship. Water slammed into him with all the finesse of a brick wall, nearly dislodging him and sending him right into the unforgiving sea. He gouged his claws into the main mast, muscles screaming as he fought to hold on, as the water yanked and tugged and demanded. Ropes lashed against his skin. Barrels slammed into his hip. He was nearly ripped free when another wave collided with the deck of the ship.

A reprieve just wasn’t coming. Fjord groped for the rigging, for the ropes that would save his damn life, and wound them tight and fast around his forearms and wrists. Sucked in a deep breath as another wave crested and fell. The roar of water was deafening. Swept half the crew against the railing and yanked two or three right into the water. Fjord shook the water from his eyes. The ropes burned against his skin, rubbed it raw and bleeding, but held firm.

The sea bulged. Boiled. Swelled and swirled, tonnes of water pressed up to make way for whatever rose. Fjord yanked more rope free, got a good amount around his thigh before the next wave hit. The ship lurched and tilted dangerously, the great groan of the mast drowned out by the thunderous roar of water. Farther and farther the bubble pushed, the water poured, the mass grew. Taller than any wave Fjord had yet to see. Taller still than the mountain range that lined the great border.

All around him, crew fell. Thrown off the side or crushed by barrels, they fell. Fjord yanked the rope taunt. Grit his teeth against the burn and the fresh swell of thick blood that left the twine slippery and dangerous. The sea still rose. The slowly rising sun disappeared. The ship couldn’t last much longer like this, and Fjord loosened his hold on the ropes. Just a smidgen. Enough that if she toppled, Fjord wouldn’t be pinned.

With a horrible rend, the bubble popped, the water poured, and Fjord was blinded by the ocean.

Gasping against the sting of salt water, Fjord shook his head, clearing his eyes as best he could. Through wet lashes, he could make out a being rising, rising, towering higher still. Impossibility. They were in the middle of the ocean, no land for horizons still. Nothing had been spotted in this region. It was _safe_. Along a Gods damned trade route. The sun disappeared behind the creature’s towering frame.

More water bubbled up around the ship, rocking it messily once more, sending the remaining crew scrambling for stability. Fjord staggered, hissing as the rope cut deep into his wrist, joints howling in protest. Fins broke the water - no, not fins. Spines. Each as wide and tall as the mast Fjord had bound himself to. The water broke faster, here, parted around jutting spines and iridescent scales; a tail. The creature had a massive _tail_.

Above, the great creature rolled its shoulders back. Skin a dappled silver and muted blue, the barest sheen of algae green coating its elbows and crook of its wrist. It lifted a massive hand, fingers the soft grey of a shark belly, claws the jagged cliff edges of drop offs. Brushed the coral mess about its head to the side, allowed it to sway loose around its chest and down the jagged protrusions of its spine, tangled ropes of kelp and seaweed falling like strands of bejeweled hair. Ship parts were woven in as thought they had simply come to be. And its face - oh. _Oh_. Fjord trembled, fingers slipping against blood soaked ropes.

A mermaid.

Rarely did mermaids surface, and when they did, destruction wasn’t far behind. The stories were unclear if the mermaids themselves caused the disaster or if they had a hand in its impossible conclusion, but Fjord had grown up on the myths. Was woven tales of beings as old as the ocean herself, carriers of the tides’ memories and lost treasures, sisters to the Wildmother and commanding a domain all their own. Of how they patrolled the barrier between light and dark. Of how they would rescue those they deemed worthy and bestow upon them a gift unlike any other, or destroy those that meant to alter the fabric of the world.

Towering above Fjord’s destroyed ship, her presence overpowered. Her serpentine tail slithered, rocked the ship to and fro, lionfish spines rushing by faster now. Scales that mimicked the night sky, the sprawl of starlight and the void in between, sparkled with falling droplets. The mermaid’s face was an economy of its own; seaglass eyes dazzled like the morning light on ocean waves, and gills slashed down her throat and gaped between seagrass covered sides. Jagged bones protruded from her back like a behemoths ribcage. Her cheeks were dusted with barnacles and mussels and the open maws of clams; serrated teeth peeked through long, thin lips. She blotted out the sun as her great head tilted down toward Fjord.

Marooned in the pool of her coiled tail, Fjord squeezed his eyes shut. Cast a quiet prayer to whoever may be listening, to whoever might be observing, that the optimistic side of the mermaid’s tale was true. Inhaled the heavy salt in the air. Yanked on the ropes to ensure his safety. Opened his eyes and lifted his gaze toward an impossible myth.

Her voice was unlike anything Fjord could parse. Within his mind, it was soft, smooth as a stone tumbled by the tide. Outside, it grated, like ships splintered apart by cannon fire. “Oh, such a vast responsibility for one so small. You will reshape the nature of the sea.”

Water thundered around him. Her tail slithered, water roiling like a storm, the rest of the crew either below deck or lost to the sea. She hummed, low like the beginning of a storm, or the bellow of a lost whale. “You will be granted a choice and it will ruin you.”

Unable to speak through the fear choking him silent, Fjord could only stare. The mermaid waited, her great head shifting just enough for the coral to sway and the kelp to realign. Her tail coiled like the mythical water serpents Vandren liked to joke about. Fjord couldn’t move. Wasn’t even sure he was breathing. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. The mermaid smiled, her thin lips stretching back into the tangle of her hair.

“We are the keepers of memory. We are the sisters of the Wildmother. We guard what cannot be known.” A giant hand delved into the water before lifting back out, waterfalls spawning between her fingers and splashing over the deck of the ship. “Yet we cannot halt the processes of free will nor do we wish to. But I will give you a chance. A third choice.”

From within one of the waterfalls, something glittered. Shone. Tumbled through the water in a dazzling display toward the deck of the ship. As it neared its end, the water ballooned. Buoyed it, in a way. A shell clattered against the wood, slip sliding toward Fjord until it settled against his boot. Fjord glanced up at the mermaid. She did not speak.

Careful, he reached down and plucked it from the deck. Roughly the size of his palm, it was a perfect half on a conch shell, covered in a low shimmer of green and purple and silver, with the coil a sparkling gold. It - thrummed, in his hand, like a livewire, magic cascading off of it in a fine mist. The ocean shifted around the ship. The mermaid leaned forward, her body sinking back into the water as she lifted her other hand.

With an almost delicate air, she curled her fingers around the edge of the ship. She could crush them all so easily, with one hand or her massive tail; hell, she could simply dive back underwater and ruin them all with the ensuing displacement. She dipped further into the water, the waves reaching the bottom of her ribcage. Her gaze was riveted on Fjord, unblinking and sightless, as terrifying as an angler fish.

Slowly, she reached forward. Paused with one massive finger inches from Fjord’s chest. The flesh was rough like shark skin, a blue so deep it was nearly black. Low, she said, “You are so much more than you know, my Chosen. You have a third choice. You have our blessing.”

Fjord swallowed. Maintained eye contact even as the water around the ship began to bulge and twist, the barest hint of displacement as the mermaid returned to beneath the waves. Holding the conch close to his chest, Fjord exhaled sharply through his nose. “Why?”

The mermaid simply fluttered her gills and coiled her tail once more. Her words were thoughtful, intrigued. “We do not dabble in the affairs above. We maintain balance. You are that balance. I grant you this boon to protect that which we guard.”

Her tail snapped up again, the sway of her body sinking back into the waves. A slow withdrawal that did little to rock their damaged ship more than necessary. Coral plunged below the surface. A flash of scale, the flip of a fin; life lingered within the mermaid’s hair itself, protected even above water. Fjord untangled the mess of ropes around his thigh and arm, kicking them off as he stumbled his way over to the railing. The mermaid receded further, her gaze focused on Fjord, stained glass eyes bright with the morning light.

As the bones upon her back began to disappear, she said, “Do not fret. You are balance. Harmony. You are ours.”

She turned away once her last words were uttered, her shoulders disappearing beneath the waves. Her tail broke the surface one last time, a glittering mass of spines and constellation scattered scales, before her head ducked underwater. Before her tail thundered down. Before the ship rocked back and then forward, slamming into Fjord’s gut as he fought to hold on. Within moments, she was gone, nothing remaining but the devastation of half a crew drowned and the deck waterlogged.

The shell hummed warm in his palm.

With most of the crew dead, it took time to limp the ship toward Denshav; they arrived five days late with no story as to why. The crew refused to speak on what happened. Fjord quietly agreed, tucking the shell away somewhere safe until he could get his hands on a few tools. Toggled together a clasp and leather cord to hang around his neck. A boon, the mermaid had said. A choice. Fjord tucked his secret between his teeth and finished the quest Vandren had asked of him.

Months later, when dusk was curbing the enthusiasm of the day, Fjord followed Sabien down into the cargo hold. Confronted him on the black powder sabotage. Got blown up for his trouble. As he fell deep into the ocean blue, as the moonlight was distorted into silver shadows, a serpentine tail slid through the water. The seashell pulsed, warm against his chest. Bubbles fled to the surface.

He wasn’t afraid. She’d returned for him, had marked him Chosen, had spared him before.

The light was a forgotten saviour and the dark smothered in its silence. The shadows swelled; something was - wrong. The water was too cold. The tail was all wrong. The seashell pulsed against his chest.

A great eye opened instead.

_Reward._

And Fjord had no choice.

**Author's Note:**

> come follow me on [my fandom twitter](https://twitter.com/ashinanfandom?s=09) (where I am crying all the time about critrole).


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